


can't dwell on the past if you don't remember it

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [153]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23551156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: one moment, Newt's about to Drift with the piece of Mutavore's secondary brain; the next, he's restrained and his glasses are gone
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [153]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	can't dwell on the past if you don't remember it

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "Okay well how about this then? Freeing Newt from the precursors requires him losing all memory since he first drifted to get rid of the precursor infection. To him he does his little rant to Hermann about how this is his fault, presses a button, then he's looking up at an older Hermann."

“Hermann,” he says, and then stops to brush a strand of hair out of his face—he needs, like, god, he needs a _haircut_ but the world is literally going to shit and that is, yeah, that’s the last of his _concerns_ right now. Right now his main concerns are, a. prove he’s _right_ (he totally is, man, he’s a genius, he’s been studying the kaiju over a decade), and b. become a rockstar.

Anyway.

“Hermann,” Newt says; again; gripping the tape tightly in his hand, “if you’re listening to this, that means I’m alive, and I was, uh, I was _right_ , so I _won_ —” If Hermann were here, he’d probably take Newt by the shoulders and shake him and scream _Newton this is not a_ game _you fool!_ but, like. Hermann’s not here. Which. Which is sort of the _point,_ right, that’s why he’s doing this.

He clears his throat. “Anyway. Um, yeah, I just wanted to say…it’s all your fault, you know, you drove me to this. So, yeah. I was right. I’m _calling_ it, by the way, man, I’m _right._ Or…or I’m dead. In which case, hah, I…won. Sort of.”

 _Don’t think about that, Newt,_ he hisses to himself, _oh my god you idiot._ Whatever. This isn’t the, like, the _ideal_ circumstances, he hasn’t slept in like a day and a half, he hasn’t eaten in fifteen hours, whatever, man, it’s for, it’s for _science._ He nods to himself; clicks the tape off; still holds it, though.

The control is cold against his hand—probably ‘cause it’s, you know, _metal._

Newt licks his lips; suddenly feeling a bit parched. God—parched. Hermann’s grown on him. Well—that’s not surprising, _but._

In a fit of— _something,_ he clicks the recorder back on again.

“Initiating neural handshake in…five…four…three…two…one—”

“Newton? _Newton?!_ ”

Newt blinks; or tries to, anyway. He’s not, like, exactly in _control_ of his body. Seizure? No—well, maybe, but he doesn’t _think_ so given he doesn’t seem to be slamming around.

Oh. He’s strapped down. Okay, well that…that explains that.

That also raises, like, a whole _new_ slew of questions—how long has he been out? Why is he strapped to a…a medical bed? Also, _why_ is Hermann brushing hair away from his face—he assumes it’s Hermann, anyway; he’s not wearing his glasses. They must have fallen off after…the Drift…

He tries to bolt upright, which, right, restraints. Oops.

“Can I get a pair of glasses?” he croaks. It sounds like it’s the first thing he’s said in _years,_ what the fuck. He licks his lips; squints really hard. “Uh. Hermann? That’s, um, that’s you, right, Herms?”

“Yes,” says Hermann; and the word is a little strained, like he’s holding back tears. Newt gets the distinct impression he’s not looking at him.

Newt frowns. “Herms…?” he says, tentatively. The other doesn’t protest the nickname—jesus, how long was he _out_ for? Was he in a…a coma, or something? “You okay there, man?”

“Here,” says Hermann; undoes the restraints, one by one; he passes him—oh, yeah, right. Glasses. Newt slips them on; frowns a bit. They’re definitely _not_ his—the prescription is a bit off. Still, it’s better than nothing.

There’s a beat; and then Newt looks at—

“ _Hermann?_ ” he asks; or squeaks, more, because, um, yeah, okay, that’s definitely Hermann, but he’s got, like, fucking— _grey_ at his temples, which, like, is a good look for him, but, um, “ _what the fuck?_ ”

Hermann sighs. “I knew this would happen,” he murmurs, “I just didn’t expect…” he trails off.

“Dude,” Newt says, trying his very, very, very hardest not to _freak the fuck out,_ “what—what the _fuck?_ ”

Hermann’s gaze meets his for a brief second before darting down. “I…Newton,” he says, “how much—what do you remember?”

“The—being in the _lab,_ ” Newt snaps, “look, man, I get that Drifting with the kaiju brain wasn’t the best idea, but what the _fuck_ is going on??”

“Ah,” Hermann says; like that explains _anything._ “Well,” he says; and then stops; “well,” he says, again, “the…yes, I suppose it all _did_ begin with the Drift. You, ah, you…Drifted, and then, when that didn’t give you enough information, you— _we_ —Drifted again…” he trails off.

Newt wants to ask—a _lot_ of things, but he gets the general vibe that Hermann’s not probably really in the best mood to answer most of them, right now; so instead he just stays quiet and waits for the physicist to continue.

After a few moments, he does. “You were taken over,” he says; near-whispering, now, and his lip twitches like he’s not far from crying. “By the kaiju masters—by the Precursors. They…they tried to take over the world again, ah…two years ago? It’s been…it’s been twelve years since you first Drifted with the kaiju—”

“Right,” Newt says; a bit faintly, and lays back down.

Neither of them say anything. Newt’s not sure he _know_ what to say, at this point—hell, he knows what Hermann’s told him is only the condensed version of the story, and, _god,_ he doesn’t…he doesn’t know if he wants to hear the full version right now.

Twelve years…he’s lost _twelve_ fucking _years._

The thought rises something hot and ugly in his chest; makes tears prick, angry, at the corners of his eyes. “You didn’t _notice?_ ” he hisses; sharply—probably not very _fair_ towards Hermann, but—fuck! He just said, he _just_ said he Drifted with Newt—he should have, should have _noticed!_

Hermann flinches. “No,” he says; softly. “No—God. Well. Yes, I did, but I didn’t think…I thought you were just—” he licks his lips; looks away. “Growing responsible,” he murmurs; and there’s an edge to it—he’s thought this over, before, Newt realises with a start. He’s had this conversation with himself before. “I…Newton, I’m so, so sorry. It doesn't—it doesn’t change things, I know, but I—I want you to know that I’m _sorry._ ”

“Yeah,” Newt says; quietly. “It doesn't—it doesn’t change anything, but I…I appreciate it.”

Hermann looks up; worries his lip, for a moment, and then reaches out, hand hovering over Newt’s shoulder. Newt nods.

“I’m sorry,” Hermann says; again, and pulls him up into a hug; arms tightening around him. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry…I love you, I’m sorry, Newton, I’m sorry…”

“I know,” Newt whispers; and closes his eyes. “I…I know.” He does; he realises, the thought easing the tightness in his chest a bit. Hermann does feel sorry, and he does love him. Newt does, too—feel sorry, and love Hermann. “Just—just stay. Please?”

“Of course,” Hermann says; and grips him tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
